


The man in my dreams

by Lomeniel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, F/M, Fire, Kidnapping, Pining, Soulmates, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomeniel/pseuds/Lomeniel





	The man in my dreams

He grips my foot tighter as he bandages the wound. It is just a small nick, but he seems uneasy, and I don’t want to upset him further, so I don’t move. “Tell me,” he says, and there’s an emotion I can’t interpret laced in his voice.  
“W-what?”  
“Your story. Tell me.” He waves his free hand, indicating for me to get on with it. “From the beginning.”  
“Uh…” I clear my throat, and try to ignore the burn from the screaming. “M-my first memory is…” This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve always had dreams and aspirations, but it’s not to die by the hands of some nutter who gets off on people’s sob stories. Of course I’m not my usual top self.  
Growling, he gathers a fistful of my hair and yanks, pulling my head backwards. The pain brings tears to my eyes. “Now!”

I let out a long breath, and a plan of sorts forms in my head. Maybe I can distract him long enough to work my hands free of the rope. And then? Let’s worry about that later. “Y-yeah… hhhhso. First mem-memory. Uhhh… I remember waking up, screaming from a nightmare where I was covered in flames. If I close my eyes I can still feel the heat on my face… I screamed so hard my throat ripped and I could taste blood on my tongue, and… and Dad spent hours trying to calm me down. Heh… it wasn’t until he started humming along to the soft rock radio station I finally closed my eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. I guess I must have been around three or something.”  
He nods, and his apparent calm encourages me to continue. I brace myself and bring forth the story I intend to tell him.  
“I had a very happy childhood. I did. My parents loved me, and I never wanted for anything. Yet I always felt something was missing. Like I wasn’t whole. I tried not to think about it too much, because like everyone else, I just wanted to be normal and accepted.  
But sometimes this longing crept out; when I was sleeping and had no control over myself. When I turned five the dreams became more frequent, and I started to recognise a pattern.” There’s always a pattern, if you know where to look, and it didn’t take me long to see it.  
“’Momma! Momma!’ My cries were followed by frantic footsteps on the soft carpet. I think there was a sharp crack, then a low curse being thrown into the room, but I’m not entirely sure. I was too scared to care that Mom had trodden on one of my favourite Barbies.  
‘What is it, pumpkin? Another nightmare?’ Mom’s voice was like a soothing blanket over my frayed nerves as she picked me up and held me close. Yes, it was another nightmare, but it wasn’t an ordinary nightmare. My six-year-old brain recognised that much.  
Wiping my nose on Mom’s shirt, I sniffed and blinked away the tears that stuck to my eyelashes. ‘Uh-huh. The same… A dark, um, monster was coming in through the window, and he was so scared, and… and then someone was shooting…’ The flash of flames from the gun was what woke me up. To this day, I’m still terrified of… of fire.”  
I sigh, and try not to think about my current predicament. Right now a little fire almost seem like a good thing. “Anyway. So Mom stroked my hair and smiled softly. ‘Oh,’ she said, as if she was holding back. ‘You were dreaming about, about S… Sander? again?’ She always struggled to remember the dreams I’d told her about before, and for some reason that annoyed me exceedingly.   
But I didn’t know how to tell her that, of course. I was only six, so I banged my fist weakly against her chest. ‘Sam, Momma. His name is Sam.’  
Mom gave me a sad smile, and kissed the top of my head. ‘Sorry, honey. It was just a dream. There’s no such thing as monsters –“ I’m interrupted by a low chuckle, and I frown at my captor, who has seated himself at the bottom of my chair, with his feet crossed, and his head in his hands as if I’m reading him a fairytale.   
“Nothing,” he smirks, and nods for me to continue again.  
“Uh-huh. Well, Mom told me to go back to sleep. She said that nothing could hurt me in my bed. Then she tucked my blanket tight, but there was something about her face that made me suspicious. Like she wasn’t telling me the truth. But then again, Mom always said I wasn’t a very trusting child, so I archived the feeling in the back of my mind where all the other weird ideas I had would eventually end up; like ghosts were real and that werewolves really looked like ordinary people. Oh, the look on Mom and Dad’s faces when I told them. Of course they knew better. There’s no such thing as ghosts – the only monsters out there are…” You, I want to say, but I’m not sure how he’ll react to that, so I sniff, and cough.   
“May I please have a glass of water?” I ask, my mouth so dry it hurts to smack my tongue.  
“No,” he simply replies, and straightens his back.  
Right. My story. Pri one, obviously. “Some dreams are vague like feelings or memories of colours swirling over a blank canvas, or emotions etched into my mind for forever, but without context or a story.   
Others, uh, others I remember as if… as if they happened just minutes ago, like those piercing, yellow eyes. So cold, so… evil. I never really saw who they belonged to, but they frightened me so much Mom and Dad thought about sending me to a professional. I wonder what would’ve happened if they did. Those eyes still haunt me sometimes. Sometimes I even feel I can see them when I’m awake… But in the middle of them all stands Sam, like a pulsing beacon of light and safety. Even though his face is blank in my dreams, I always knew it was him, you know?”  
He fidgets and shifts on the floor, looking uneasy, but he quickly hides his emotions behind a stern façade. “Tell me about the dreams about Sam.”  
“Hum, okay. In those dreams he was there, sometimes almost as we were the same person, or sometimes we would meet and do stuff together. It never, uh, never struck me as weird when I was little, that I never saw his face. It felt natural, and those times I saw others, it was like watching them through a filter, or maybe through his eyes even.

Dean appeared often. His brother. Sometimes like a knight or a caped hero,” I smile from the memory of the tough looking kid in a Batman cowl and the cape flowing behind him as he ran through the streets. “He… uh, would swoop in to save us when we’d gotten lost. Flowers sprouted and blossomed where he walked, and wherever he went darkness cowered. I always liked Dean. He made Sam happy.  
Sometimes older people appeared too. At least when I was younger. A man named Dad felt strong and safe, but sometimes he felt distant and sad. Those dreams always made me cry with the heartache Sam tried to hide away.  
There was another man too. A gruff, but kind looking old man. Sam called him Uncle Bobby.” There comes a low growl from the floor, but I ignore it. “His hugs scratched my chin, but they were bigger and better than I’d ever known before. Sometimes Uncle Bobby was Uncle Dad. Those were not happy dreams. Well, the dreams were. Usually filled with fun stuff like soccer or baseball and ice cream, but they were almost always immediately followed by a pang of inexplicable guilt and embarrassment before I was rudely ejected from the dream.  
Those nights I used to gather all my stuffed toys in my bed with me and place them meticulously around me so they’d know I loved them all equally. That wasn’t entirely true, though. My stuffed gorilla, Hannibal, was my favourite, but I would never admit it out loud so my toys could hear it. But Hannibal always slept in my arms. He knew all my secrets. Like when Dad left with another man when I was seven, and uh…” I let out an uncertain laugh. I hadn’t meant to tell him that. But it’s like I can’t stop myself from it.  
“Anyway. When I was nine, I remember the dream so vividly… I was in this, this meadow, I think. So unfamiliar, I’d never been there before, but at the same time I knew exactly where I was, and that there was something important there. Everything was so distracting. The colours were so vibrant I was pretty sure I could touch them if I tried; the air buzzed with excitement, and all around me birds chirped and danced over the tree tops.  
Next to me flowed a small brook, and the bubbling reminded me of laughing babies. I followed it. Nothing bad could happen if I just followed the brook, right? Just as I skipped over a rock to cross the water, a shadow flitted across the corner of my eyes, but when I turned, all I could see was a bright green fern stretching to lick the sun.  
The water ran upstream, it seemed, but I didn’t think much of it. It was as it should. Eventually I got to a waterfall that flowed upwards, but I was too preoccupied with the table laid out with every candy I could possibly imagine – and quite a bit more, I believe. Sam was there too, and another man I couldn’t really see. They were laughing. I’d never seen him that happy before.   
When I approached, Sam got up and hugged me. I was so surprised I totally lost the ability to speak. He introduced me to his friend, I-I’ve forgotten his name, but he was so proud of Sam, and he told me that I was good for looking out for him. Then we gorged ourselves on candy and marshmallows and junk food, and watched cartoons and played Twister.   
When I told Mom about the dream, she ruffled my hair and smiled, but under her breath she muttered: ‘That poor boy. He must be feverish –‘ But to me she said: ‘It was only a dream, honey.’  
You know… I nodded, pretending I hadn’t heard her, but that’s when I understood: she believed me, even though she didn’t tell me the whole truth. I decided to ask the wisest person I knew the next day: my best friend at school, Lou. He was a year older than me, and he knew everything there was to know about everything worth knowing.” I exhale through my nose and shake my head. The picture of Lou in the schoolyard is almost absurd. And it was so long ago. How young we were.  
“Lou folded his hands in his lap and looked at me with the air of a benevolent ruler who’s just about to educate his favourite subject on a very serious matter.  
‘You have a soulmate,’ he said matter-of-factly. Several of the onlookers gasped. Some sniggered.  
‘Nuh-huh!’ Tilly from science protested. ‘My Mom says there’s no such thing.’ We could practically hear her roll her eyes.  
‘Then your Mom is wrong,’ Lou countered, and I huffed in agreement. He’d clearly won the point, even though I didn’t really know what he was talking about. ‘Just because she hasn’t got one, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!’  
‘You know those are just stories, right?’ Maggie chimed in. She was in Lou’s year, and pretty much ruled the school. She cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms.   
“Yeah, no, I’m telling you it’s real.” I was desperate for Lou to be right; I never liked Maggie, and besides nothing would ever convince me that my dreams were just dreams.   
“Well, my mom says that it’s just a fairy-tale Nana used to tell to make us go to bed without arguing.”  
Lou got to his feet and crossed his arms too. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
Maggie shrank back a bit, because he was like a head taller than her, and probably weighed twice as much, but it only took a second or two for her to bounce back, with Tilly in tow.   
I don’t remember what Tilly said, but I do remember throwing a few punches. It’s a miracle we didn’t all get suspended. Got detention, though. And it felt so unfair. Because Tilly deserved everything she got. She was a despicable… Anyway. I went home and asked Mom. Mostly because I was sure the teacher was going to tell her what the fight was about anyway, so I figured I’d beat her to it.  
The answer I got wasn’t what I expected. I think I thought she was going to deny it and tell me my mind was running away with me again, and that Lou shouldn’t have lied like that. But she sat me down and ran a hand through her hair. ‘It’s a controversial topic,’ she began, ‘and many believe it’s untrue, or that it’s a threat to free will. It’s a rare condition. That’s why we don’t talk about it. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to know someone out there is made for you?’   
‘Like you and Dad?’ I asked, rubbing the bruise on my forehead.  
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. ‘Honey, I… your father and I kept it quiet because… well, you see, your father and I weren’t – I never had the dreams, though he did. We worked hard to make it… work, and we never thought that… because we, uh, sorta thought it would… uh, that it would…’ She obviously struggled to speak about it. In hindsight I realise that it hurt her greatly, but back then I was just a stubborn brat with insensitive questions.  
Trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat so that I didn’t see, she coughed, and moved the cushion half an inch to the right, then back again. ‘It seems silly now,’ she continued after a while. ‘Thinking his soulmate would appear just from us talking about it… As if we could keep him away just by keeping quiet,’ she added with a huff, more to herself than me. “Anyway… those dreams… yes. Sam’s your soulmate, but I can’t tell you when – if – you’ll meet him. Nature is, I wouldn’t exactly call it evil, maybe more tricky. And there hasn’t been much research on the subject, since it’s pretty rare to begin with, and… well, since it’s about love and all. But I think I read somewhere that it’s most likely hereditary. There was a research paper published, I think about twenty years ago, that claimed that only males carry the gene, but I’m not sure. I don’t know.’ Her voice was soft and airy, more vulnerable than I expected a Mother to be.  
Mom always did that when she was sad: spoke to me like I was a grown-up, and I always nodded and practised my “understanding” face, but truth be told I didn’t understand half of what she said.  
What I did understand, though, was that Sam, the boy I’d been dreaming about my whole life was real, and that one day I might meet him. That thought made me giddy and warm inside, and I couldn’t wait for us to play together. I was only nine, mind you. Uh… May I please have a glass of water?” My voice crack, and he slowly gets to his feet. I use the few seconds alone to wiggle the rope a little further.

When he gets back he watches me with… almost fearful eyes, and he gently helps me to drink. The water is cold and refreshing, and I gulp it down greedily. He wipes my chin, and then sits back down. “Now continue.”  
“Right.” I want to ask him why, but I don’t think it’ll do me any good. “The years passed, and I no longer wanted to play with Sam. Somewhere deep in my brain the seed that had been planted when I was born began to grow and bloom.  
Mom never mentioned anything about soulmates again, and I quickly learned not to bring it up at school unless I wanted to be ridiculed and laughed at. But the dreams continued.   
When I was thirteen, and just starting to figure out my feelings and getting confused with more of them, I had this dream that really stuck with me for a long time. I think it was in September, and I remember I struggled with school a bit at that time. Anyway. In this dream, Sam and me, we were at a museum.   
I wasn’t entirely sure how we got there, nor did I know exactly where we were, but I also did know that we were in San Francisco, and this was the gigantic Prehistory Museum that obviously had to be there, since that was where we were. Which is funny, because I’ve never been to San Francisco. Incidentally this was when I learned how to pronounce pterodactyl, heh…”  
He gives me a dark look, and I hurry to continue my story.  
“This museum, it was, I don’t know, round-ish… the huge cylindrical core was made up of glass, the hundreds of windows gave us glimpses of the exhibitions inside, and we strolled down along the walkway that wound itself around it like a giant vine. It felt like walking through a rainforest – everything was so green and lush.  
Each floor was home to a new exhibition, and even though quite a few of them looked interesting – I never really got over my dinosaur phase – we didn’t feel like leaving our jungle path. The rooms were too crowded, or too loud, or both, and we just wanted to be together.  
Once we stopped by a souvenir cart, and Sam bought me a miniature model of an ichthyosaur skeleton, and I bought him a lollipop in all the colours of the rainbow, because that was what he wanted more than anything.  
We didn’t say much, for what felt like forever. Occasionally Sam would stop and point at something new or unusual, and sometimes we’d get distracted by a sound or the sight of traffic outside, but it only took seconds and then we were back together again on the neverending carpeted spiral.  
At one point, Sam’s hand brushed mine, and we both jumped. He coughed and hummed, I blushed like I’d never touched another human being before, and then we both looked away. It was the best feeling in the world: my heart hammered, I was on the verge of throwing up, yet I was floating just a couple of inches above the ground, because I knew what was coming.  
A wave of courage hit me, and I reached for Sam’s hand just as he reached for mine. The moment we touched the world went darker, as if the sun suddenly went down, but then thousands of tiny lights blinked all around us. One of the lights landed on my nose, and I squinted to look at the firefly. When I looked up again, Sam was closer than he was before. I’m pretty sure there were fireworks too. Wind lifted my hair, and I closed my eyes and leaned in – only to be interrupted by a loud screech from the velociraptor exhibit. We turned our backs to it, but the sound continued, so I opened my eyes and cursed loudly. I was back in my bed, the alarm clock shrieked at me, and I had two hours of history and maths waiting for me.

I think that dream lingers because most of the others were so dark and scary. I can’t tell whose dream is who’s anymore, but I remember dreaming a lot about those yellow eyes. Especially in combination with black smoke and a smell that stung my nose. And sometimes I would comfort Sam, or he would comfort me, and I would wake up with tears in my eyes. I guess it was because our minds were getting used to each other. I dunno.  
There were a lot of monsters. But sometimes, sometimes… I recognise the dream as fully mine.” I close my eyes and dip further into the memory. “I don’t know why I was crying. Maybe it was just that time of the month, maybe something horrible had happened that I couldn’t remember, or maybe I was just exhausted from Mom’s constant talk about college. The applications were written, but I didn’t know where I wanted to go – or even what I wanted to do. At any rate the tears wouldn’t stop falling, and soon I sat in a big puddle of water that rose higher with every plop. Kinda like Alice in Wonderland. Heh… that was one of my favourite books when I was little.” I open my eyes and sigh. I feel like crying now. But I guess it won’t do me any good.  
With another sigh, I continue; “Suddenly an arm snaked around my shoulder, and Sam’s head leaned against mine. ‘I’m here.’ No questions, no fussing. He knew what I needed: company and silence. I didn’t even have to say thank you, but I tried anyway.  
My voice was too raw, no sound would come, but Sam nodded and pulled me closer. ‘Any time,’ he said, and that was it.  
We sat for a while, watching the world scuttle past. Piles of baked goods appeared and disappeared again. A small monkey walked on ropes between two dumpsters. In the shadows I’m pretty sure I saw Ross Geller hunt for rats, but I didn’t say anything because it looked like he didn’t want to be disturbed.  
Breathing out, I noticed my cheeks were dry: all that was left of my tears was a dull aching in my temples.  
The clouds shifted, and we sat inside a rainbow, floating high above the grassy fields I recognised from that school trip in fourth grade when André and Lionel scared half the class by finding a huge slug and running after all the girls with the poor creature dangling from their hands.  
‘It’s a nice memory,’ Sam said after a while.  
‘Yes. It is,’ I replied, not knowing what else to say. I turned towards him to ask about his school trips, but he was gone. His warmth and scent lingered, but the place he’d been sitting in was empty. I missed him.

That was the last time I saw him for a long while. I guess I was busy with school, and I don’t remember dreaming much at all. Got a boyfriend, though it didn’t last long, because he found out about Sam. Read it in my diary, I guess. Wasn’t too upset to see him leave. He wasn’t too interesting anyway.  
But when I was… around twenty, I had another dream. As I drifted off to sleep I felt the fabric of reality stretch around me, and I let it, knowing it would soon settle again. I wasn’t afraid.” Not like now, I almost add, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to show that… that creep… that I’m scared of him.  
“The darkness faded and revealed a rolling meadow filled with all the flowers I’d ever heard of. And probably a few I hadn’t. I immediately recognised the place: it was my safe space. My Ghibli meadow. I’d watched “Spirited Away” with a reverence bordering a religious experience not long before. Nothing could hurt me here.  
The sound of the summer breeze harmonised with the birds as the familiar sounds and smells brought me home. Finally I could breathe.  
Soon it became clear to me that I wasn’t alone as I expected, and I looked around with my heart pounding in my chest. The colours paled and the shadows lengthened – and then I spotted him: standing a little way away, looking curious and almost shy for intruding.  
My heart slowed as I realised who it was, and I smiled and beckoned him over. ‘Hey, Sam,’ I whispered as he came closer, knowing he could hear me. Around us the colours grew stronger again, and warmer, and the sun rose higher in the sky.  
Now, I didn’t know much about Sam, I still don’t, but I knew he had a troubled soul. It wasn’t hard to see. Hell, I didn’t even know his face, but I knew he was tall, and I knew that he was beautiful, both inside and out. Even here I had to bend my neck back to look up at him.  
‘Hey,’ he said, giving me chills from the big grin in his voice.  
‘Haven’t seen you around in a while,’ I replied, hoping he’d detect the longing in my voice.  
He looked away into the distance. ‘I know. Things have been… busy. So this is… this is you, huh?’ I thought I could detect guilt in his voice, but I was never good with people, so I didn’t say anything. Instead I focused on the curiosity in his mind, and how warm it made me feel. The flowers around us rustled proudly.  
‘This is me.’ I let out my arms and spun around on the spot, almost stumbling over an overgrown bush of berries.  
Sam smiled. I could feel it in the sunshine. ‘This is…’ He paused. ‘Nice. It’s nice.’  
It was so good to see him again, to be with him. We walked for a while, talking about nothing and everything. He picked a flower and placed it behind my ear, and I blushed furiously.   
I desperately wanted to kiss him, but he held back on me. I didn’t understand why, because I saw the same connection we’d always had, but I figured he had his reasons, so…   
Well, after we passed the small cabin where I used to go to sort my thoughts, another woman joined us. Um, not joined as such. She wasn’t really there, more of a fleeting ghost or projection of a thought. I’d never seen her before, but her name was clear in Sam’s mind. Jessica. He called her Jess. And she called to him, and… Sam just… he faded. I…” The memory still stings in my chest. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. I swallow and blink to stop my tears. 

He dabs my eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and stretches. He yawns, and then his stomach growls. “Go on,” he murmurs. “I wanna hear the rest of it, before…” he trails off, leaving me confused. What has he planned?  
“I hated that woman for ages. She appeared in almost every dream we shared. She stole my Sam. But… I knew she made him happy, so somewhere, deep inside – I would never have admitted it then – I was grateful. Dean had… Dean had all but disappeared from Sam’s dreams, and when he did pop up it was usually to argue. At least Jess kept him company. And his dreams were… nice. No monsters, no darkness. But my dreams changed too. They lost their colours. They felt colder too. Once, Sam asked me about it. He said he’d noticed, but I turned away and didn’t answer him.  
For a while I dreaded going to sleep. I didn’t want to see her again. Didn’t want to carry that feeling of, of betrayal. I wasn’t… angry… at Sam. I was disappointed, sure, but I didn’t own him. No, I was pissed at the universe for punching me in the gut like that.

Then suddenly, the dark dreams returned. The fire too. It was stronger, burned hotter. I could see the outline of a woman in the flames. Her face was contorted in pain, and her blood trickled down the walls.” I shudder. It had dawned on me one morning, after watching her maimed, burning body, that the woman was Jessica, and that she probably was dead in a fire. My heart had bled for Sam that day. Still does.   
“I can barely talk about this. Please. I gotta… I gotta…” I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair. “It was bad, okay? I don’t know what happened to Sam. He was so happy, and then almost nothing but demons and blood and monsters under the bed. And the torture. Oh god, the torture. I could almost feel how Sam’s limbs were ripped apart and put together again. They plucked out his eyeballs over and over. Cut him, bled him dry… I feel like throwing up just by thinking about it. The images are seared into my brain, and I wish to god they weren’t!  
In the beginning, I tried to reach out to him, and occasionally he’d welcome my light, as he put it. He said I made the suffering bearable, but as time went on, he stopped responding to me. And then… nothing. Nothing at all, for a whole year!” My voice breaks and my heart with it.   
“It was nothing like before when I didn’t dream about him. Then I’d sorta sense him; know he was there, doing his thing, you know? But now? It was as if he didn’t exist. That was the longest year of my life. What if something happened to him? What if he died?”  
He laughs as if the thought amuses him, and I suppress the urge to spit in his face. Yeah, there’s no such thing as monsters, but he’s one alright! Twisted and vile. And there’s no one here to stop him. And if I get my hands free? What can I hope to do?

“My heart longed for Sam, but after so long without anything, I started thinking I’d made it all up. Yeah. I’m an idiot. I should’ve -- But I… I started to come to terms with the thought that maybe he was… The whole romance thing, the idea of soulmates – what kind of nonsense… I mean, not everybody has one, right? But I started questioning it: like what made a soulmate a soulmate and not just two people that were so very in love?  
Sure, you have the dream thing, but they say we only dream about people we already know or have seen, so it might as well be a dream about that plumber you saw that one time you went with your mom to work. But then there were the thing with the faces… yeah… I didn’t really believe my own doubts, but I worked so hard on pretending I did, that I forgot. So when the dreams returned, I almost spooked myself awake.  
Yeah, the dreams came back. Just as suddenly as they’d stopped. And it was worse than any horror film. They hurt, physically and mentally. Like someone pressed a hot nail into my brain. There was light flashing in front of my eyes, and sometimes it was pitch black, and we could hear something scuttling past just outside our reach. 

I remember squeezing Sam’s hand once, and he yelped as if it hurt him. It was all dark around us, and there was not a sound except for the soft pitter-patter of rain on the lawn – no, that wasn’t it. That was the sound of footsteps. Naked feet slapping silently against concrete floors. I grabbed Sam’s other hand. He was totally calm, but he squeezed my hand in a quiet gesture of safety. Whatever this creature was, he wasn’t afraid of it. But Something was coming, and Something was going to bring Sam to his knees. I just knew it.  
And when it came… oh jeez… ‘You’re a freak, Sammy. A monster. You should’ve died!’ Just the voice was enough to make Sam crumple to the ground. Dean appeared in a haze, his face distorted, but I could see the disappointment still. But it wasn’t him. I knew Dean. He loved his brother – deeply. He would never. NEVER. Say something to hurt him. But Sam never saw this false image. He cowered on the floor, his face buried in his knees and his arms around his head. He was… was rocking back and forth, and I know he was crying. I could feel it. And every word from Dean cut him open.

There wasn’t much I could do. He wouldn’t acknowledge me anymore, but I stroked his hair and told him he was perfect, and he flinched away from me. I told him to not listen to the creature that had taken his brother’s face, but I think he closed his mind to me.   
I felt him crumble. I stumbled over his frail form in the darkness, terrified and frozen.  
I kinda didn’t recognise him. Sure, he had the same silhouette, and the same homely smell surrounded us, but it was as if he didn’t see me. No: he ignored me on purpose, flinching away when I got too close.  
‘Sam,’ I said, trying to keep desperation from my voice. ‘It’s me.’  
The only response I got was a low hum, and him leaning away slowly.  
‘Hey,’ I tried, softer this time. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.’ Why he would be scared of me was a mystery, but the claustrophobic weight of panic descended on us. I could hardly breathe.  
‘You’re not real,’ he whispered hoarsely, and I wondered if he’d been screaming. Maybe he was hurt – or ill. He did rub his hand as if it was painful.  
‘Are you hurt?’ I asked, reaching for his hand, but he snatched it out of my reach.  
‘Not real.’  
‘I am real,’ I countered. ‘But this is a dream, so…’ I cut myself off. I wasn’t making it any better. Suddenly Sam started to fade from me. I caught a glimpse of what looked like charred wings before I was engulfed in freezing flames. I woke up panting hard and still feeling the cold spreading over my skin. My heart was dancing in my chest, and high-pitched ringing filled my ears.

It’s hard to separate one dream from another. They continued for a long time. Nothing but fear and confusion, and sometimes cold fury. He was hunkered down in a corner, trying to hide from something. Despair and anger radiated from the shivering pile, but it was so dark I couldn’t see him properly. Still, I knew it was him. The familiar feeling of a tether drew me to him. ‘Sam?’ I asked, as quietly and gently as I could, just as I always did.  
His head snapped up, confused by the new presence, but he recognised me too. I think. ‘Who are you?’  
Once again he broke my heart. ‘It’s me; Y/N.’ We’d been through this a thousand times, and I didn’t understand how I hadn’t just given up yet. But the bond between us was so strong I don’t think I could have, even if I tried.  
‘You’re not real,’ he replied. ‘You’re created to make me… to punish me for…’ He was suddenly on his feet, and I could see he was falling apart. His clothes were torn, and the rags were swaying in a wind that wasn’t there. He had burn marks on his arms, and his face was gaunt and grey.   
‘Get away from me!’ There was so much pain in his voice I almost started crying. His words punched me in the stomach, and for a second it was so, so hard to breathe. I felt ill. Frost rose from his mouth, and darkness swirled around us again. Howling winds brought a cold that froze our bones, and I just couldn’t seem to warm up despite the fact that there was a fire burning in front of us.  
‘Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,’ a mocking voice sneered. ‘She’s just as real as I am.’  
Sam fell to his knees again and started muttering. ‘Go away, go away, go away…’

So yeah… that was a fun time. But I think he got better. He doesn’t avoid me any more. The monsters are still there, but Sam’s stronger now. Still sad, still haunted, but he’s almost back to his normal self. Back to his kind, caring self. I… I have this dog I dream about sometimes, and when they meet, Dog really lights up, and Sam can spend hours playing with him. But I’m…” I look away. The past is hard, yeah, but it’s the past. Knowing what comes next is… I’m getting desperate. “I’ve tried to ask him where he is. If we can meet, but I never remember his answer when I wake up. And.. I-I think I might never meet him in reality, you know? So when I saw that bar in his dream, and I actually remembered and knew where it was, I…” I give him a flat look. “Yeah. I’m starting to think that was a mistake.” 

He’s not gonna let me go. I can see it in his eyes. And now that my story is finished, well… I might not take him out, but at least I can leave a few scratches on his face: I’ve almost managed to work my hands free. Just a few more minutes…  
It’s difficult to decipher the look on his face. Fear? Nah, that can’t be it. Pity, maybe. “Aw,” he says after a short pause. “That’s a nice story. I’ll make sure to tell him if I ever run into Sammy-boy. Hell, it almost made me feel for you. But,” he continues with a creepy smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all, “I’m still gonna eat’cha!”

What??? His statement takes a moment to reach my brain, I mean, really reach my brain, and in that short time a second, pointy, set of teeth has descended over his normal ones, except that is impossible and I definitely need to get my head checked.  
I blink, and he’s moved to my throat – what the hell? Does this dude think he’s a vampire or something? Ow! That really hurts! I think I’m bleeding, and… Suddenly he flinches, and he looks up at me with hungry eyes and a wicked grin. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says and there’s blood dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. I giggle. He’s a messy eater – I think I’m gonna throw up, or faint, or… yeah, fainting sounds good right now, and I can sorta feel the floor crash into my head as I topple off the chair, but I really don’t care. I just wanna rest. This has been a crazy day!

When I come to, I’m lying on my back and there’s someone standing over me, pressing something to my neck. I don’t think it’s the same guy.  
“Hey, hey… there you go. Wake up. Can you do that for me? Open your eyes?”  
His voice is pleasant and feels kinda familiar, but I can’t place it, and I’m too tired to ask. But I do as he tells me, because I want to make him happy; blink a couple of times and shake my head – ow, that hurts!  
“Careful. You’ve lost a bit of blood, and you hit your head pretty hard. But you were lucky. That sonofabitch didn’t have time to make a proper incision, so he only drank a little…”  
What the hell is he talking about? Oh. Yeah. Crazyboy. The one I thought were going to show me a good time, but instead tried to… eat me. Excellent. I groan and scoot up so the pain in my back goes away.   
The skin is raw where the rope cut into me, and I rub it gently, whining from the pain. Nimble hands put a bandage over the cut on my neck, and I try to stretch a bit.

“Sit still, please. I gotta see your hands too.” His fingers brush gently over the bruises, and he wraps a strip of fabric around my wrist. To protect me from infection, I guess, but I get a sudden flash of being tied down, and throw my hands up. I don’t know, maybe I hope to punch him in the nose or something.  
He backs away and holds up his own hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”  
Looking up at my saviour through shielding hands, I see kindness in his eyes. He is oddly familiar, and though I think I’m supposed to be terrified, and I am, I feel unusually calm and collected. 

Then I spot the other guy over his shoulder and the world grounds to a halt. Looking from one to another, back and forth, my mind spins so fast I get dizzy. Could this be real? I know I’m not dreaming... but… Standing in the doorway with a goddamn machete swung nonchalantly over his shoulder, is Dean. Dean from my dreams. Brother of… 

“Sam?” I whisper, scared that he’ll disappear once I’ve said his name out loud.  
He looks at me, the confusion evident in his face – that face I’ve never seen before this moment, but that I’ve loved with all of my heart. His brows knit together, and his lips part slightly – my god, those lips… and he kneels beside me. The cogs in his brain turn furiously. I can see it. Then he lights up. “Y/N?”  
“What, Y/N? Like Y/N?” Dean drops the machete and hurries over.  
Unable to keep a smile from my face, I nod and roll onto my knees. Before I can stack my feet under me, Sam takes my hand and pulls me up.  
“Y/N…” he repeats almost inaudibly. “I half thought you didn’t exist at all.”

Sam smiles at me and my heart soar. It’s like coming home after a long and gruelling hike in the woods. I can relax. And breathe.  
I lean closer and Sam follows suit. The moment our foreheads touch, I swear angels sing – even if it sounds tacky!  
“This is so weird,” Sam whispers, sending shivers through my whole body. “We just met, but I’ve known you since… always…”  
Just as I’m about to answer with something really cheesy, Dean appears in the corner of my eye. “Oooh! Are you gonna kiss now?”  
Sam’s face contorts into an expression only ever seen on fed-up little brothers, but I grin widely and reply: “Bitch, we might.”


End file.
